[Amara]
"You did what!?" I kicked off the sheets and shot up.
Oliver nearly slipped off the edge of his bed. "B-but I did live. See?" he pointed vaguely to his round face.
Stressed fingers threatened to rip out my hair. "Why didn't you tell me of these occurrences before? All this time I assumed Skell and you made an innocuous journey here - not one fraught with danger."
"Don't blame Skell. He… actually wanted to tell you. I did too - I was always gonna. It just took a minute to get around to it. I didn't want you to be angry."
"Angry?" I shrank a little. "Why would I be angry with you? Or Skell, for that matter?"
"Not at us. At the Order."
Ah. That.
Thieving escorts and blood-sucking dryads were one matter, but more than those endangered Oliver. A Templar Knight - the very same that attempted to slay Skell - was fully prepared to enact the same deed upon him. The former could be explained away as a misguided attempt to do good - were it not for Oliver's firm denial of the idea. But the latter; intending his blade for the throat of my innocent brother?
"…You said he was no longer a Templar, correct?"
He looked around the inn room, then back at me. "Yes?"
"Then rightfully so," I stated. "My anger goes not to the Order, but to the lowlife cretin that twisted every oath he made for something as trivial as glory. This Hyland was an awful excuse for a Templar. But his actions were his own; they don't reflect upon the rest of us."
Oliver swept a relieved hand across his forehead. "Good. I reckon it would be bad to hate the folks you work for. Though, I wonder: do you know that guy?"
"This Hyland? The name is unfamiliar."
"It is? But he's a Templar too. Or was."
"I suppose I never mentioned this in my letters," I leaned on a knee. "Templars work in two separate capacities. Most are sent on assignments around the nation. Like myself. The rest are permanently stationed at vital towns or cities. I've met nearly all of the first group at some point or another."
"But not the ones like Hyland?"
"Our paths rarely cross, and the better for it, in his case." My knuckles tightened. "He would be very unlucky to meet me…"
Despite my seriousness, Oliver seemed glad. "I know if he ever turned up again, you'd knock him flat!"
I would.
At least, that's what I told myself. While altercations between Templars were forbidden in all but the most extreme circumstances, that didn't mean we had free reign to beat any civilian we didn't like. Just the same, the image of feeding that man a brick and stomping until it broke was quite comforting.
"Hey," Skell sat cross-legged on the floor between us, eyes shut, "trying to focus on my Shroud here. Instead of yelling, why don't we all count sheep. I'll go first."
I considered hurling a pillow at the skeleton. I thought better of it.
"But I don't wanna sleep…" Oliver complained.
"He's a point," I noted. "We may arrive late to the theatre tomorrow if we stay awake too long."
Oliver gasped. "You're right! No way am I missing the opera about the gambler and the talking octopus!"
"Gambler and the… what?" I balked. "That's the show you two told me about? The 'masterpiece' Skell promised was 'elegant' and 'classy'?"
"Well, of course it's classy - it's an opera," said Oliver, as if it all made perfect sense. "Doesn't it sound incredible?"
"It certainly sounds like something." I turned to the undead, who'd returned to his quiet focus. Although the quivering edge of his lip betrayed his amusement.
By the time my attention moved back to Oliver, he was already beneath his blanket. "Gosh, I can't wait… Goodnight guys."
I gave Skell one last look - who surely spent all his willpower ignoring my gaze - before pulling the sheets over me. "Goodnight."
Talking octopi - who thinks of such things? Though I suppose if nothing else… it could be entertaining.
—————————————————————————————————
Scattered conversations and a quiet breeze filled the awkward silence. What else was left? We'd exhausted every other topic. Except one.
Oliver exhaled, resting his hands atop the bridge's stone barrier. He gazed at the waters ahead - colored a shimmering gold in the afternoon sunshine. "So… I reckon this is it then?"
Skell's eyes drifted sidelong, toward the emerald plains. "Looks like it. Though, I've gotta ask: are you completely sure about this?" he tapped the small bag hanging from his shoulder. "Gifting me a bit here and there was one thing - and something I really appreciate, don't get me wrong - but this? I'm not sure it should be mine to have."
"But it's mine to give, ain't it?" Oliver nudged him. "Amara already said she doesn't want it, and there's no way I can spend it all, and it's only half. Hunting ain't always reliable; I'll still have to spend my half on food and stuff."
"Yeah," Skell scoffed. "Unlike yours truly."
"Come on. I know you'll find some use for it."
Well, perhaps there was one last topic.
"Considering what's in that bag," I crossed my arms beneath one of the waving flags, "it would be wise to open you a bank account. Leaving a sum like that lying around is just asking to lose it. Sun above, merely reentering the city with it could cause trouble, if the city guard didn't know my face."
"Right," Skell sighed. "Don't want any 'lawful confiscations' leaving me a beggar."
"Yup…" Oliver trailed. "That would be bad…"
Skell leaned over the barrier. "Yeah…"
"Agreed…" I said.
Silence resumed. At least, for a time. Until it was finally broken for good.
"I… should get going," my brother muttered. "The longer I stay, the harder it'll be to go."
My chest tightened.
"So soon?" Skell asked as if we hadn't been there an hour.
Oliver nodded sadly.
"And you're certain about not taking a carriage?" I asked.
"I promise to stay on the safe roads and keep my eyes peeled," he told us. "But… I may take a short detour or two - just to see the sights."
I shook my head, then smiled and pulled him close. It was a moment I'd never forget. Because only in my arms did I truly realize how much he'd grown.
"I'll miss you Amara."
"I'll miss you too, Oliver. Grandfather would be so proud."
We let go, and Oliver walked up to Skell, who looked more nervous than I'd ever seen him. "Er… put her there," he extended an open hand.
Oliver laughed. "Seriously, Skell?" he brushed aside his arm and hugged him too.
Skell stood frozen a moment, before returning the favor. Not that my surprise was much lesser.
Initially, the thought of my brother befriending an undead was a nightmare. But in that moment, I could only be happy he had a close friend. That they both did.
"I know you can do it," Oliver whispered. "But stay safe."
"You do the same… b-buddy…" Skell's dry voice choked up.
And just like that, he left our arms.
But, moments before he disappeared behind the bridge's rushing torrent of bodies, gap-toothed smile open to the world, he waved.
We'd be monsters not to return such a gesture.
So Skell and I waved back.
—————————————————————————————————
Sickness didn't matter; I'd sweat it out.
Injury was no concern; anything unbroken could still curl weights.
Even holidays were but colorful variants of the same routine: wake, improve, eat well, sleep. A day missed could be the edge that killed me - or worse - killed others. So not one was missed.
Except, of course, for the day of Oliver's departure.
I laid in bed as restless as a child. My room's training dummies stared at me - at least those that still had eyes. The urge to fly out of bed and kick one was overwhelming.
But then, I gave Skell my word.
"Just tell me what to do; I'll train on my own today," he told me. "Be serious. After all this, you're in serious need of a day off. Actually… when was your last day off, anyway?"
He didn't like my answer. After a lengthy conversation where I was all but begged not to help him, I relented. I put on a brave face as Oliver left, but inside was a drained spirit in no state for debate.
Although… my body could always throw a solid punc-
I banished the thought. Regardless of if he was right or not, I honor what I say. But if I cannot train, how else can I spend my time? The sun has hardly begun to set. Should I… go somewhere? Like… an opera! Wait, no. Ugh. What else is there? Sun above, I'm going to spend this entire day in bed, aren't I?
Guilt pulsed lightning through my veins, but ultimately, was tranquilized by discipline. I took measured breaths, sank into the Citadel's cloud-like mattress, and closed my eyes.
Without constant direction, diversion, or exhaustion, my mind floated from topic to topic. Its first stop was Skell: the walking contradiction - in more ways than one.
For nearly three weeks I'd known the man, and only recently had I truly come to terms with… his identity. Initially I found helping him an impossible dilemma: was the undead a threat, or was I helping a man in need? Was I betraying the Order, or upholding their chivalric ideals even in controversial circumstances? Night and day the questions plagued me, and if Oliver hadn't begged me in a bout of sobbing to help Skell, I to this day am unsure if I ever would've. And my doubts didn't end there.
I considered… killing him.
I wasn't proud of it - I'm not proud of it - yet the thought was there; a passing "what if" when his training started. Akin to a "what if I leapt off this high place?" or "what if I dropped this baby in my arms?"
It was something you would never do - something you never wanted to do. But thoughts had a bad habit of coming and going like unannounced guests.
Though there was a difference. These thoughts had a basis.
Perhaps he's secretly malicious, I used to consider. Possibly even an elaborate ruse from the Order's enemies, and I'm the brainless tool being manipulated into letting him inside our headquarters. If skeletons can talk, anything's possible.
So in our first days training - between his clumsy strikes and slow dodges - I thought: One blow to the skull, before his regeneration takes effect. Quick. Direct. That's all it would take. Doing so could only benefit the Order. And myself.
I let Skell land a hit whenever the idea struck; it only felt deserved to have him knock sense into me.
Like all rancid ideas however, the thoughts thankfully faded with time. Skell's sincerity for life was undeniable. No longer could I consider him even an exceedingly unlikely threat.
In fact…
Abyss take me. I've come to even somewhat… enjoy his company. What manner of Templar am I? Training him - chatting with him - blast - sitting in a theatre and laughing beside him! I made the correct choice, I must've, but if the others learn of this? Of what he is, and that I willingly help him? They'll never understand. It would light a wildfire across Lumerit. At minimum, I would never get promoted to Paladin.
…And that's if I wasn't assigned a lifetime sentence in Selem's darkest dungeon.
My mind quickly fled the bleak possibility. Its next destination wasn't much better.
This very moment, Oliver's likely miles away. Gallivanting down the safe roads. Or he's found some cave and spelunked its innards, expecting adventure. One likely filled with spiders. Giant, poisonous, man-eating spiders, probably. Oh no! What if he's wrapped in vein-burstingly constricted webbing, suspended upside-down above countless ravenous arachnid maws… and I'm not there?
I palmed my forehead. I knew I was being paranoid, but I couldn't help it. Nothing could be more terrifying than my brother sharing the same fate as-
My heart skipped a beat. Some thoughts you don't give the time of day. Because if you grant them more than a second, they steal twenty-four hours. That was grandfather. All that he was. And all that I'd lost.
Steady breaths turned haggard. I bolted upright, body prepared to cope the only way it knew how. But I dropped my fists; I promised Skell.
Yet that left me wide open, like an unarmed warrior without cover.
Memories cornered me. Grief assaulted me. Loneliness plunged blades into my flesh and tore away the strongest parts of me. Sorrow flooded inside like salty waves and beat against my heart.
Everything in the last month fell upon me. Before I knew it a tear threaded down my cheek.
Panic.
I wasn't supposed to fall apart like this. I was a Templar: unhindered by emotion, and Oliver's sister: an unbreakable wall for him to lean on.
Then I realized I was alone in the darkness of my room. I had to posture for no one, be strong for no one. Without my favorite diversion, I was exposed to everything.
Thus… I chose to stop fighting.
Heartbeats pounded in my throat. I sobbed and wailed and kicked and beat and cursed the world for what it took from me and at the end of it all my mind was as jumbled as the sheets. Never had I acted like this. Not since childhood.
But as the sun set outside my window and the tears finally dried, I took the first breath in a long while that wasn't cut off by coughs and heaves.
A full, deep, relieved breath.
I'd nearly forgotten how that felt.
—————————————————————————————————
I grabbed Skell by the collar and flung him across the field. He hit the ground and tumbled a fair distance before coming to a stop.
"Got you!" I pumped both fists, before recalling my role. "I-I mean, remain vigilant for counterattacks, Skell. Foes won't always let you capitalize after an opening."
Skell laid on his back, wincing a moment before shaking it off. For both our sakes', his Shroud had taken several steps forward; to an extent, I could take off the kid gloves. Better to get accustomed to pain in a controlled environment than the battlefield, as the saying goes.
He rose quickly. Although he wasn't riled up, or motivated for another round.
Instead, he laughed.
My brow dropped. "Most don't chuckle after getting thrown about like confetti…"
"Yeah, I guess they don't." His amusement grew.
"Well?"
"Sorry. It's just… last week, when Oliver left, you looked like a ghost. But the day after - and especially now? You're livelier. It's in your voice," he massaged a shoulder, "and your arms. "
"Oh. I… suppose it's good you see me that way. But I'm the same woman I've always been. Nothing has magically stripped away my feelings."
"Of course not. I've been suspecting the opposite, actually." His grin exuded a hint of smugness. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that day off I proposed did you some good."
I looked away. "I'll concede it wasn't a complete waste of time."
"So if I were to translate that from 'Amara-speak', that means something along the lines of: 'I can never repay you or your sage advice, my genius student. Mwah! Mwah!'" He threw imagined kisses at his own feet.
My eyes dug into him and I quietly entered a combat stance. "While you're at it, would you like to translate the meaning of this?"
Skell's smile snapped shut. "Er, let's not get too hasty, I was just-"
I closed the gap and began another round of high-impact training. After all, if there was one lesson more crucial than knowing how to fight, it was knowing when to hold your tongue.
Although… gratitude may have pulled my punches. Just a tad.
—————————————————————————————————
I set my feet. When one stood at the highest point of one of the Citadel's tallest towers, it only felt right to ground oneself.
All the more, when fearing earthshaking news.
"This'll be short, right?" Skell asked not long ago. "Last time they borrowed you, you spent all day on patrol duty. We've only got a week before the Ordeals; at this point, every second of your coaching counts."
I left without an answer for him, or myself. Summons to the Citadel could result in many things. I hoped it was merely patrol duty.
The weighty door before me swept slowly into an office abundant with history. Silver walls were almost wholly covered in countless accolades and souvenirs: letters of recognition, deeds of land, suspended weapons and armor - some old and worn, others pristine gifts from respected artisans, and at the center of it all, the Order's sigil.
Undeviating service earned a single man them all. The very same man I came to see. Or more accurately, requested to see me.
"You respond to summons swiftly, Maud," stated this man, gravelly voice sounding as if it traveled several floors down in order to reach me.
Hunched over innumerable documents - meticulously stacked upon his precisely arranged desk - was my superior. At odds with his heavily-armored form, depicting both the courageous lion and the vigilant eagle, was the delicate way in which he held his quill: like one holds a darling lover. Nothing else moved. Not his legs to rise. Not his back to recline in his chair. Not his pale eyes, locked seemingly in a permanent squint. Even as I closed the door behind me.
I performed a quick bow with the left fist over my heart, noticing myself in his eyeglasses. "A true Templar is never tardy, Commandant Karthwyn."
"As they say," he carefully laid a densely-worded document aside, promptly analyzing the next. "But to the matter at hand: you are to undertake an assignment."
My heart sank as I rose from the gesture. N-no! Of all times…
"To where!?" I half-blurted. My last assignment took but four days. If I can be tasked someplace nearby, there still may be time to-
His quill slipped at my outburst. A petty mistake. To most.
"A-apologies, sir," I said. "I was merely-"
"Rhalwell," his wrinkled gaze finally met mine, and I shivered. "Lodged in the Rhal mountain range to the west. Prior assignments have taken you to the region, I believe."
They had. Which was why my concern took new shape.
The Rhal mountain range wasn't far; the beginnings of its rocky ascent started but a half-day's walk from Selem. Rhalwell lied center of the range - being a mining town. But that was the problem.
Land was treacherous, there. Jagged peaks, stark declines, and scattered resources meant travel differed from a walk though Lumerit's relatively-level southern regions. Distance wouldn't exhaust my time; caution would. In addition to whatever trolls and brigands and such crawled about the hills and cliffs.
But to the people there, why would they be an issue?
"Is Rhalwell not well-defended?" I asked. "Monsters and brigands would have their work cut out for them, assailing a town surrounded by such rugged terrain."
"Defenses that are worthless when attacked from within."
"What? Are the people fighting amongst themselves?"
"Think," he frowned, pushing apart his bushy sideburns. "If they were, why would a mere Knight be given the task? No. Whilst delving into an offshoot tunnel, a group of Rhalwell's miners broke into an ancient crypt. I presume they dropped their pickaxes to collect the shiniest relics they could carry. The mummies didn't let them."
Mummies. I had a visceral reaction to the word. The wrapped undead were unlike most their brethren; more than a glint of intellect remained inside their rotted brains - thanks to their preservation. And owing to that intellect, mummies acted as particularly cruel killers. They took their time with you. Made you beg for your last breath to come quicker.
Sick creatures.
"Those that avoided the mummies' grasp escaped the crypt," continued the greying man, "and to preserve Rhalwell's safety, the townsfolk collapsed the tunnel's entrance. Which leads us to the present. I am told this new tunnel is rich with coal, and that productivity in other areas of the mine has fallen drastically due to a wholly irrational fear of further losses. Both problems will be fixed with your involvement."
My shoulders fell. "Then… there were miners who didn't survive."
Strangled in the dark, as their own partners locked them inside the crypt? Sun above, what a dreadful fate. What of their families?
The Commandant smoothly laid another document aside. "Seeing as the undead are sealed away, Rhalwell is in no immediate peril. You are to travel there on foot, purge the crypt, collect any valuables inside for inspection, and restore vigor to the miners. Am I understood?"
It was difficult to look him in the eye. I wanted to help the townsfolk, rid them of the undead they feared. Truly. But… there was another who needed help. And unlike the task I was faced with, I was the only one who could aid him.
I cleared my throat. "…Commandant Karthwyn, if I may? Is it possible that…" My chest pounded as I considered how best to word my request. "No, what I mean to say is, I… suspect there may be others, better suited to this assignment."
The Commandant's gaze was as stony as a basilisk's. Silently he rose tall from his seat, presence shrinking the room. "Verging on a month ago, I was visited by Warden Slania. She requested your upcoming annual leave be extended. I approved."
Of course! With all that's happened with Skell and my family, I forgot about the leave I was to spend with… my family.
"An easy decision," he knit a smile, rounding the wide desk with long steps. "We discussed your remarkable performance. Your success rate. Your unrivalled work ethic. Most of all, your enthusiasm. Always asking for another assignment. Never griping. You affirm and leave the capital in nearly the same breath."
He stood over me. His smile was nowhere to be seen. "Explain why today is different."
The truth was nearly dragged from my lips. I sealed them tight. It couldn't be allowed to escape.
Commandant Karthwyn moved closer. Uncomfortably close. His eyes bore into me; his breath stung my nostrils. "Would it have something to do with the man you train?"
"W-what!?" my words escaped me.
"I hear you've been accompanying a man to the Rouge Revelry. Specifically to a combat center. The rest speaks for itself. I take it this is for the upcoming Sacred Ordeals?"
"I… yes sir, it is."
He shook his head and emitted an acrid sigh. "Training another to achieve Templar status is not forbidden. But you must realize your mistake."
The Commandant's voice softened. "Your aptitude is above-average, and your ethic is - again - unmatched. Yet you whittle away your hours bettering a man whose triumph is far from assured. I do not care what his relation is to you. You would do well not to let your considerable talents go to waste, tending to the chaff."
I… had a difficult time agreeing. Revisiting the fundamentals with Skell sharpened us both, and a tireless sparring partner offered much finer feedback than an immobile, mute, unmending dummy. And although I still didn't understand why, the first day we met, I successfully cast a light art. I hadn't been able to replicate the success since - but it was a success.
If Skell was around, perhaps lightning could strike twice.
My lips moved to note how mutually beneficial our arrangement was.
But Commandant Karthwyn spoke quicker. "I won't allow you to ruin yourself. Do you understand?"
On my exposed shoulder he laid a gauntlet. The gesture was warm on the surface, but his metallic grip was an icy cold upon my skin. He stared and refused move it.
I needed it off.
I needed it off.
"Yes sir," I uttered against my will. "Yes…"
He removed the gauntlet, all too slowly. "I expect you to depart tomorrow morning. Is that clear?"
A nod. It was all I had left in me.
The Commandant turned away, returning to his extravagant desk and studying the next document with an emotionless drive. "You are dismissed, Maud."
—————————————————————————————————
"Amara, you're back!" Skell greeted me from his seat center of the room's earthen floor.
Ominous energy swirled about his palm, lighting his face a nauseous green. A potentially disturbing sight - if not for his excited grin. "Now I know we should jump to practicing Shadow Form soon," he gestured at the approaching sunset. "But improving Hand of Decay's finer control has actually been worth it - yeah, I know, you were right. Don't rub it in; just check these out!"
Stones of varying size surrounded my student. Together we collected them on our way to the combat center that morning. Dozens had been converted into piles of dust. Among those still intact, Skell lifted three clearly altered from their original shape.
One he gave a toss. Unlike most rocks, it rolled easily across the dirt until it bounced off my shoe and fell like a coin. It was a near-perfect, tiny wheel, "shaved" into its shape by precise decay.
The second was not one rock, but several melded together into the shape of a very rough bracelet. "Turns out, I don't have to jump all the way to dusting. I can just stop in the middle." He laughed. "It's like I'm a welder."
An unnatural hole marked the third's center, likely bored through with an entropic finger. This one he held up like a miniature telescope, looking one-eyed around the room. "Hold the applause; these little gimmicks took ten failures each before I got them to-"
His gaze landed on me through the rock. "…Amara? You don't look too good."
Silently I dwelt by the door. I believed I'd have time to formulate my thoughts. I didn't. All I could manage was an-
"I'm sorry."
Skell rose. "For what?" He came nearer. "Bad news at the Citadel?"
My stomach churned. Be strong and tell him! He needs to know.
"…If you're stuck on patrol duty tonight, then whatever," he shrugged, presenting a respectable attempt at appearing unbothered. "You've already done me a million favors. I'd never expect you to ignore your job for m-"
"I cannot train you anymore!"
The outburst knocked him off-balance, and took the wind out of me. We both fumbled for words.
Mine were collected first. "It-it isn't by choice," I assured. "I've been sent on an assignment to the western mountains."
"You… you have? But if you go, then… wait, even if you have to leave the city, the Ordeals start in a week. You'll be back in time for some last-minute training, right? A summary at least?"
Skell scanned my expression. He turned pale. "You're kidding…"
"I've tallied up any and all factors that could affect my travel time. Repeatedly. Yet each time I do the math, it comes out to, well… I won't return until after the Sacred Ordeals have ended."
Faint shivers still ran across my skin from before. "There's… nothing I can do. I truly apologize, Skell. But the remainder of your training is now in your hands alone."
His blank eyes slowly floated to the floor. "…Be honest. What are my chances of pulling this off? Of becoming a Templar?"
The question left me hesitating. Since the beginning, we skirted around the topic. Perhaps that was unwise. "You've made startling progress this past month. Chalk it up to your tirelessness, or perseverance, or plain determination, but you really have. Were you to face the 'you' that first walked into this room - you would trounce him with ease."
"Nevertheless," I continued, "in terms of physical prowess and experience… you're still lacking. Sufficient hard work can counteract these two deficits. But in so short a time? "
I let the question rest. Faith in Skell was something I wanted to have. Yet it wasn't that easy. He'd chosen the most daunting trial in Lumerit: the Sacred Ordeals.
They garnered a reputation equal parts respect and fear for culling all but the best, funneling hundreds into a handful. Skell was good. But I wouldn't delude myself into thinking he was an elite warrior - regardless of our affiliation.
"Figured as much," he muttered quietly. "Even after all this, I'm still no horse to bet on. I know the week between now and the Ordeals can't make a world of difference, but without your guidance, my speck of a chance might as well die. I've still got so much to learn about the staff - Abyss, fighting in general."
Skell flung aside his rock. "And we've only just touched on magic."
I closed my eyes. As difficult news to break as I expected. Perhaps I should change the subject, and quickly at that.
"In all honesty, your dark magic needs the least work. You seem to have a knack for, shall we say, creativity when it comes to their use. They'll likely be your greatest asset, despite the potential backlash."
"…Backlash?" his eyes leapt back to me.
I frowned. "Yes? They are dark magic. One can tell at a glance."
"Is that supposed to matter?"
Wait a moment, you don't…"
I went silent. Oh. Oh no.
"Amara. What?"
"Dark magic… it isn't looked kindly upon in Lumerit."
"It's not?" He scoffed mirthlessly. "Great; don't tell me it's illegal - like glamours."
I shook my head. "It hasn't been outlawed for a long time. Even here in the capital - where open use of magic is prohibited - dark magic is no more discouraged than the others. Yet sentiments can take many years to fade."
At his confused gaze, I elaborated further. "Society despises undeath; you know this all too well. But it doesn't end there. Necromancy brings the undead to life. And necromancy is a well-known subtype of dark magic. Some do not make a distinction between the three; they despise every link on the chain."
"You're saying that because people hate undead - they also hate dark magic? That's ridiculous. Why not loathe fire magic? I'm sure some maniac's gone and blown up a building with it at some point."
"Because undeath has history. For decades necromancy has plagued Lumerit. Killed countless people. Ravaged homes. Scars like that are not easily forgotten."
Skell grunted, displeased.
"Don't misunderstand; I think this line of thought gravely mistaken, and I'm far from the only one. In most places, use of dark magic may earn you a sideways glance at worst - many efforts have been made over the years to separate it from its child magic in the minds of the masses. But we live in Selem: home of the Templars. Pride runs strong in the city's veins. Same with hate for our enemies."
"And wouldn't you know?" Skell said dryly. "Most of the Templar's enemies are undead."
"Either them, or the necromancers who bid them to rise from their graves."
"So that's what you meant by backlash? I can expect the Templars to stand in my way?"
I shook my head. "Fairness will always be upheld in the Sacred Ordeals. Concern, unfortunately, should be placed moreso with your fellow participants. My colleagues will not be with you every waking moment. I suspect that, when not watched… some may take umbrage with a dark mage attempting to become a Templar. It's not uncommon for those who have been hurt by undead to seek our cause."
"Then… I might not have to deal with just the Ordeals, but the morons taking them too?" His eyes turned bitter. "Why didn't you tell me this before? Least I would've known what to expect."
"I thought you knew. Weeks ago, you said you lacked memories, not common sense. This is common sense."
His mouth opened to argue. But it winded shut. He grimaced and turned to walk aimlessly toward the far wall.
"Skell?"
He continued until he met the wall, thrusting a hand against it.
I followed. "Skell, talk to me. I understand it will be rough, but-"
"That's just it; things are always rough. My teacher's leaving, I'm walking into hostile territory, and I'm not. Good. Enough. And you know the funniest part? It's been like this since I was born. Take one leap over death and pain and judgement and guess what's on the other side - an even wider jump. But this one's just too far. What's even the point? When I'm just gonna fall anyway?"
"Worst of all," Skell's voice grew shaky, I've never been more alone. My only friend - the only one who's always accepted me for me - is gone. I never told him, but he inspired me. His optimism. His love for the next step. But my next step is petrifying. And I have to walk it by myself."
A watery glint drove down Skell's face and lost itself in his shadow.
Not only his shadow. The setting sun finally crossed beyond the open ceiling. Night's darkness crept along the floor, overtaking the room's daylight.
"Maybe I should be alone," Skell muttered. "That's what the world keeps telling me. People learn what I am, and they detest me, same old cycle. But they don't have to…"
A whisper left his lips. "Shadow Form…"
In a blink his murky body sank into the shadows underfoot. Darkness became his forlorn asylum, and he drifted within it.
Still.
Solitary.
So close, but infinitely out of reach. Out of my reach.
Or, is he?
Rampant thoughts bounced about my mind. Worry, sadness, sympathy - all feelings I never imagined I'd feel for an undead. Proper casting required they be excised.
But procedure didn't come to mind. Nothing did except the desire to pull Skell out of his isolation. Except for hastily corralling my emotions - like herding lambs into a pen - I skipped every step and concentrated.
My hands came together. Between the crevices poured forth thin rays of light, carving the approaching shadows. All that remained was the incantation.
"Glow."
Uncaged from my fingers ascended an orb of sharp light. Was it particularly brilliant? Bright? No. But it parted the darkness all the same. Without it, Skell had nowhere to bury himself. The very ground expelled him like a man rising to the surface of the sea. Laid upon his back, he looked at me, disoriented.
I did it! I… No. Not now.
"Skell! Pull yourself together!" I demanded. "I won't pretend to know the burdens of undeath; but I know it cannot be easy. Even so, isolating yourself? Giving up? You chose this path to live, didn't you? How will you reach that if you allow yourself to be paralyzed?"
"I-I…"
"This, I won't sugarcoat: overcoming the Sacred Ordeals will be nigh-impossible. Be that as it may, if you truly want to live, you must see it through. You're not nothing. You're clever. Talented with magic. And your undeath may be more than a curse. Most of all, I see within you an unbreakable determination. Use it."
"Unbreakable?" he asked weakly, sitting up. "What determination? Look at me."
"Everyone is brought low, in time. Everyone doubts themselves. I… do too. But it's not the missteps that define us. It's what we endure. Succumb, and we fall short. Weather the storm, however? Do that and all's within our grasp. Even the supposedly unattainable."
Skell's expression shifted, contemplation in his eyes.
"And," I continued, "if having an ally to support you allows you to press forward - like Oliver - then… perhaps I could be your friend, as well."
Surprise pulled his gaze to mine, Glow's light flittering around us.
But his eyes lost their optimism. "…You don't really mean that, Amara. We've had some good times, sure, but at the end of the day, I'm undead, and you're a Templar. Mortal enemies. I shouldn't be your student, let alone your friend. That's how you see it, anyway."
I truly considered the prospect. The days where I thought him a potential enemy were long past. But was the complete inverse ever truly possible?
Oliver - what united us - was gone. And still I looked forward to every morning in the combat center. Doing our stretches. Chatting during breaks about whatever came to mind. Improving together. Even when he tried to correct me about matters of which he couldn't have been more wrong… I still valued the company. The Order had in its ranks many colleagues. Acquaintances, even. But scarcely few friends.
Of course, I always had Slania. Though perhaps a second friend, one around more often - one I could show the ropes to for once…
Could be nice.
I extended a hand. "I did see it that way. Not anymore."
He studied my palm. For a moment I feared he wouldn't take it.
Then Skell laughed warmly. "Well, after an argument like that, I can't just go and turn you down, can I?" he took my hand, and I lifted him to his feet.
We carried each other's gaze, and his face turned serious. "Sorry. And… thanks. For this. For everything."
He looked skyward. "You're right. Life's too important to give up on because of some stupid fear. Besides, Oliver thinks I can beat the odds. What sort of friend would I be if I let him down?"
"The same friend you'd be to me if you make my brother weep," I smiled. "So don't. You have more than just him waiting on you to live again, after all."
He made a poor attempt at masking his elation. Then his mind jumped somewhere new. "Oh!"
Skell reached into his back pocket and retrieved a small notebook.
I watched him flip a couple pages. "What is that?"
"My anti-bucket list." He realized the name was hardly an explanation. "It's a list detailing every experience I gotta have once I come back to life. Eating pizza, sleeping all day, peeing in the grass - anything, really."
"That strikes me as… open-ended."
"Very. Just like life, if you think about it. But anyway, I just noticed that all this stuff either involves me, Oliver, or Cynthine - the old witch," he spoke like a curse. "None of them include you, though. I should change that."
"You should? That's… very sweet of you. The notebook, is it private? "
"Yeah… to anyone who's name isn't in it. Wanna see it?"
I nodded. "The desires for the little joys in life - what lies between the work and weighty ambitions. They would be an intriguing thing to stop and look at."
"Sure. Just get comfortable - I've been doing my fair share of dreaming. And don't even think about judging me. You… do have some time before you have to go, right?
"Plenty."
"Great!" He flipped to the front. "So, as experience number one, I gotta…"
And so, the eternal enemies: Templars and the undead, forged their first alliance. Their first friendship.
The mere concept shattered anything approaching sane thought. Subverted every tenet of the Order. Sacrilege. Utter treason.
And yet, I suspect that even then, a certain thought began to rear its head.
That all rules, and oaths, and beliefs - the most ironclad included…
Perhaps had their exceptions.
—————————————————————————————————
"Will they quit it already…?" Skell shrank over the stone barrier, purple hair ruffled by the breeze. "The moon could drop from the sky and these people still wouldn't look away."
"It's not as if their eyes are on you," I saluted at a passing starry-eyed child, my own hair windswept to one side.
"'Course they are. 'Here comes a Templar - her armor just shimmering in the morning sun. Oh? Who's that bum beside her'?"
I snorted. "You're not a 'bum'."
We came upon a lull in the conversation. Our attention drew itself to the blue-gold waters ahead - boats in the distance traveling to and from the Azure Harbor. I took a breath.
"In a week," I said. "You'll be in the Order. A Squire. I can scarcely believe it."
"Well, that's not written in stone," he replied. "That's if I actually make the cut."
"Not if. When. Belief is a powerful tool. Remember that in the coming days."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Not if. When!" Confidence found its way to his face.
I turned to him, a breath passing my lips. "It's time. My assignment shouldn't be left waiting any longer."
"Don't let me hold you. Go out there and knock them dead! Figuratively, I mean."
"I will. And… good luck. May the sun light your way."
"…You too."
Warmth locked our eyes. But ultimately, we both had separate paths to walk for the time being. The emerald plains called for me and I listened.
What will come of this? I wondered. Skell's role in the Order, as a dark mage? His end goal? And… what will occur after?
Concerns came and went; potential disaster threatened to arrive in a variety of forms. Yet I couldn't help but be optimistic. Granted, the future could always be as bleak as the most hopeless part of you expected.
Or… perhaps they'd shock you. Materialize into something you couldn't have even dreamt of.
I stopped at the end of the bridge. Something urged me to turn back before I departed for good.
There, in the bridge's bustle of eyes, stood Skell's. The only one of them all to see me as something more than the armor on my shoulders.
Instead of leaving, he saw me off, and seeing I'd turned…
He waved.
I would've been a monster not to return such a gesture. So I waved back.